I messed with one, one texter, just as a Christmas gift to Skin Man

(Earlier today ... via text message from
416-854-XXXX to 905-442-7423 aka Me)

Is this CJ?

Me: Nope

Sorry man

Me: No problem. Have a good day.

(Minutes later ... )

This is the person with the crazy train website...right?

Me: The what?

You must think I'm retarded. I can read. I know what number I SMS.

Me: I don't think that person knows what a SMS is.

This isn't C.J. Smith???

Me: NO!

Is the number on the website wrong?

Me: What website?

Don't people text you about crazy train?

Me: Is that code for weed? You kids these days. All these names for the bad ass of green. Just call it what it is! Grass!

I'm not looking for weed. Who is this?

Me: Who is this?

I asked you first.

Me: I don't have time for this crap right now. I'm in the middle of strapping a gerbil to a remote-control helicopter. This is my 11th attempt at this experiment and I'm running out of pet stores, unless I drive to London or something, because I'm sure if I buy one more gerbil in Durham Region, my face is winding up on a poster.

Okay... let me try this again. Is there someone in your house who runs a website about GO trains?

Me: No. Wait, dammit. You must mean Chunk.   Ever since he showed up with this guy he calls Sloth and they started living in my basement, I'm dealing with all kinds of text messages from people looking for lost, triple-hoop earrings and a gift card to the GAP.

Does the C.J. stand for Chunk? Is Chunk there?

Me: Not right now. He left for Astoria, Oregon this morning. Something about a golf course and a ship.

Does he ride the GO train?

Me: Yes. He affectionately calls his daily commute "jumping aboard the Inferno".

I'd like to speak to him. I want to question him about some of his beefs about smoking and smoking while waiting for the bus.

Me: Oh gee... ah, I wouldn't do that. As a kid, he had this maid, Rosalita, that he was really close to. She died of lung cancer. He's really sensitive about the topic. She'd still be alive today if she hadn't had that part time job at Rothmans in the 70s. Single mother thing. Easy money. Such a shame.

Not everyone who smokes is going to get cancer just like not everyone who drives is going to die in a car accident.

Me: There are no such things as car accidents.

LOL. Sure there are. They happen every day.

Me: People who crash do so because they or someone on the road with them engaged in an act or performed an activity that resulted in a loss of control. But let's not get into that. Chunk doesn't drive a car. Therefore he's mitigated his risk. Same with anyone who doesn't smoke a cigarette.

Isn't everything in life a risk?

Me: Holy Christ, I'm not a philosopher. I'm just some person with a phone trying to fly a gerbil. What the hell is your damage? What did Chunk do to you?!

Tell Chunk we need to talk.

Me: Shall I have him text you?

Yeah. I'll wait... By the way, what does the J stand for?

Me: Junk.

Makes sense.